


The Best Laid Plans (or: Encore)

by froofie



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, real person fiction benedict cumberbatch
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Cirque du Soleil, Erotica, F/M, Food Kink, Food Sex, French Kissing, Hotel Sex, Karaoke, Kissing, Las Vegas, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Zumanity, real person fiction - Freeform, real person fiction benedict cumberbatch - Freeform, vacation sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froofie/pseuds/froofie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two to "Policies and Procedures"<br/>Fictional Benedict Cumberbatch wants to make your "first" time together extra special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Laid Plans (or: Encore)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potterwholocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterwholocked/gifts).



Three weeks after the show we had worked on for the better part of a year finished, Benedict took me on our first official date.

To Las Vegas.

To be clear, in the course of those three weeks, we held hands over dinners, laughed our asses off during lunches and snogged in his Jaguar, but this was the first time we were truly together without interruption save for that one hot romp in the lighting booth at the theater.

Benedict found a last minute travel deal but it only gave us four days to prepare. It was a gamble going on a very long international weekend trip this early in our courtship, but we both understood that finding vacation time between two people in our industry was something you jumped on when your schedules lined up. I knew very little about what we’d do once we got there, Benedict wanted me to leave everything to him.

In between work and more work, I managed to get ready for the trip. Packing was done haphazardly.  It never occurred to me to bring something sexy to wear. My wardrobe consisted of black t-shirts and jeans for my job; I hardly ever had time to go shopping. I managed to come across a tight black skirt in the back of a drawer while searching for my passport and crammed it in my suitcase at the last minute.

The very long flight, including a short layover in Atlanta, was uneventful. Benedict and I easily entertained ourselves separately and together with books, scripts, movies, napping on each other’s shoulders and writing naughty Haikus. It was a relief to discover we were amiable travel companions. His relaxed attitude calmed my usual trip-taking tenseness and I was able to keep us on schedule. We gave each other space, but came together willingly and naturally.

I had it in my head that the desert sun would burn me to a crisp should the tiniest ray hit my freckled skin for even a fraction of a second. I slathered on sunscreen before we landed at McCarren International airport. Benedict laughed at me as he hailed a cab to the Paris Hotel and Casino.

It might have been simpler to have flown an hour from London to France, but it _was_ lovely to be in such a beautiful quaint hotel amidst the late-afternoon garishness of the Strip. Benedict had ordered two adjoining suites which I found romantically prudent.  It was nice to have the option to spread out in case one of us was a snorer and an extra bathroom is always a welcome thing. Upon check-in, Benedict put on his board shorts, slung a towel over his shoulder and skipped out to the outdoor pool to revive his energy. He slunk back with a sunburn. The only thing I rubbed in was the aloe vera gel. I took his mind off his reddened shoulders by telling him about my little jaunt down the fake cobblestone Parisian streets whilst investigating the hotel’s charmingly cheesy atmosphere. I even gave him the jam-filled crepe I bought at a little dessert stand. We fell asleep watching cable TV.

The jet lag hit us both pretty hard. We spent the next day lounging around in fluffy white robes pampering our asses off. He gifted us with a massage day at the lavishly Moroccan-themed Encore spa. We went from treatment to treatment, sleepily passed along from one pair of hands to another in such an opulent atmosphere, my mouth continually stayed open in wonder. Benedict looked pleased with himself under the green goop and cucumber slices on his face while having his nails buffed. We kept ourselves satiated with fresh juices, salads and tons of water. The rest of the day lazed by in a haze of napping and more swimming (I joined him for a dip in the less-threatening moonlight), our bodies oiled up and completely relaxed.

On the second full day Benedict woke early and started eagerly making plans for our evening. He spent a great deal of time on the internet, texting people he knew in the business and going down to the hotel concierge. I had no idea what he was up to, but I watched his mood sour after each hour of his quest passed by. While he was able to get reservations at a high end sushi restaurant for dinner and a private tour of the fake Eiffel Tower, he was unsuccessful in arranging the evening’s main entertainment. He was insistent we see a magic show, any magic show, but everything was sold out or dark. Even a rare attempt to toss his name around to see the weight it could pull was unsuccessful. He ended up defeated and embarrassed with a bruised ego. He spent the better part of the afternoon sulking alone in the second suite.

After a successful shopping trip where I found a stretchy sleeveless top with a huge black and white photo Marilyn Monroe on the front to go with my stretchy black skirt (and a pretty red lace strapless bra), I had lunch with an former coworker of mine who was now a Stage Manager for The Beatles _Love_ show. Before we parted ways, she was able to get me free tickets to the late night performance of _Zumanity_ , the only Cirque show open with available seats that evening. Though there was no magic act in the production, she assured me, with a twinkle in her eye, that this was the perfect show for the two of us. I ran to find Benedict and give him the good news. I’m afraid my attempt at alleviating his problem only exacerbated his irrational “inability to please” wound. He wouldn’t look away from the television as he offered a resigned, “Thank you.”

I feared the rest of the evening was going to go down the toilet if he continued with his attitude. I knew better than to poke at a bruise, and I’ve never been one to fight, but before I left to take a yoga class and have a sauna, I offered him my thoughts. I stood between our rooms, looking at him propped up limply on the made bed, staring blankly at the screen.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t get the tickets you wanted, it obviously means something to you. I’m delighted at our dinner and tour plans, though. My friend says we’re going to enjoy the Cirque show. I’m looking forward to watching it with you." I stopped and took a breath. "Look. This is the most cliché thing I’ll say all trip,” I paused again, a hint of exacerbation in my voice from not having the right words. He finally looked at me. I was shaking a bit. “I don’t care what we do as long as I get to do it with you. You are a joy to be around and I am having a wonderful time. I’m a sucker for a good hotel and cities lit up at night and you’ve brought me to a destination full of both. You’ve let me go off on my own, do the things I want to do while you do yours, which is a valuable gift no man has ever been able to give me. You took me to the most extravagant spa I have ever been to. I still well up thinking about how beautiful it was. The only thing that seems to have gone awry is the tickets, but that was never important to me. You’re what’s important. We could stay in our room the entire trip and I'd still go home feeling accomplished.” His face softened. I could see my words were sinking in. “I know what it’s like to be in a funk. I can’t do anything to change how you feel, so just be in it until you’re not. Thank you for bringing me here.  I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” I walked over, kissed him on the forehead and left.

The yoga class was centering and the sauna turned me into jelly. I poured myself back up to our room. I briefly noticed that he was in the bathroom of the other suite, so I took a shower and got ready on my own. When I emerged into our shared room, fully dressed and primped, he was leaning against the door jam between the suites waiting for me with an apologetic smile and tenderness in his eyes. I could feel his thoughts thick in the space between us.

He had put on dark fitted jeans, a plain white t-shirt and a grey cardigan. His hair was slicked back a bit on the sides, highlighting his curly fringe.

I closed my eyes and smiled to myself.

“What are you doing?”

“You look incredibly sexy. I’m taking you in.”

“So do you, but I think you’re supposed to do it like this.” I opened my eyes as he sauntered towards me, head still humbly hung low. Our hands found each other’s bodies softly, his on my upper and lower back, mine over his white cottoned stomach, under his cardigan and around his waist. He smelled freshly groomed, minty-mouthed. We kissed and melted back into the power that kept us coming together over and over.  We were delightfully at its mercy. He was becoming home to me and I reveled in the comfort that brought.

“I’m sorry. I had very specific ideas for this trip. I wanted to have fun running around Sin City like teenagers with fake IDs, not laying around indoors sleeping.  I forgot about jet lag and sunburns. I should have planned better. Thank you for saying what you did, for that perspective. Thank you for letting me wallow when I’m sure you wanted to rip my head off.”

“It really is okay.”

He threaded his fingers together at my mid-back and brought me closer. I rested my head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my ear. I heard his muffled voice through his chest.

“All that matters really is this and I’m glad I have it.” I looked up at him. His height over me when he was this close felt protective, almost angelic.

“Me, too.”

The tension dissolved, we inhaled, kissed chastely, broke apart and headed out for our first real evening together.

As we walked out hand-in-hand into the hot dry evening air, I cautiously took a stab at satisfying my curiosity.

“Do you think you can tell me why seeing a magic show was so important to you?”

He thought for a bit before stammering.

“I just wanted to show you....how I think we...uhhmm.” He nervously cleared his throat and ran a finger over his lips shyly. “I ....just like how it makes me feel.” He squeezed my hand as if he needed help and turned to smile at me. There was a sort of sweet emotion coming from his eyes, even through his sunglasses. I’d felt it before myself but had been unable to label it.

I kissed him on the cheek and let it go.

oOoOo

The Bellagio water show, which we watched from the top of the Eiffel Tower, left us both oddly emotional.  We wiped our eyes dry on the cab ride over to Nobu for the most extravagant mouth-watering sushi I’ve ever had. I even found I’d overcome my aversion to sake thanks to our knowledgeable waitress who introduced me to a delicate sweet brand her family drinks. Benedict made me delete the photo I took of him on the sly with chopstick walrus mouth.

We booked it over to the New York New York hotel in time to get our tickets and find our seats on the main floor. I had just enough time to take in the atmosphere, the lush theatre bathed in chocolate velvet and red light. I felt an odd sensation I was constantly being caressed by my surroundings. Just as the lights went down, I caught a glimpse of the words “Erotic Cabaret” on my ticket and realized what we were in for. I looked at an unsuspecting Benedict, sitting to my right, with wide excited eyes. The Emcee, an impressive and partially naked transvestite, slithered onto the stage singing a song about sex and what we could expect that night. I felt more than saw Benedict turn slowly to look at me. I caught his eye, both of our faces plastered with expressions of impish excitement. His dimples flashed.

I soon  found myself in some kind of an erotic meditation. Cirque shows always had a way of creating incredible atmosphere and I was just as easily sucked into the world of _Zumanity_. It was a dancing, acrobatic parade of flesh, art, beauty, sheets, blindfolds, whips, touches, smiles, winks, kinks, fishnets and laughter. It represented all aspects of sex: slithering sensuality, the connection between body and spirit, the playfulness, the taboos, the fun, pleasure and pain.  

Halfway through the show, Benedict leaned into my ear and said, “I feel like I’m living in an Anais Nin story.” Indeed, only she could have come up with a more amorous, earthy and seductive presentation.

Being in the room with all of those beautiful, scantily-clad, strong bodies artfully writhing around suggestively (sometimes in giant see-through bowls of water) to slow seductive music, it was impossible not to feel naked. Or to want to be naked. I was glad I took that yoga class earlier in the day. I fell under a spell. It was akin to having the best French kiss except it was happening all over my body at one time. I felt myself floating in a sea of decadence. Benedict shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. Often.  When they weren’t wrapping around his thighs, his fingers dreamily played in my hair. I looked around and noticed that most of the couples in the audience were somehow touching the person they came with.

My friend was right, this was the perfect show for us. Beautiful, sexy, cozy, coy, tasteful, riské. A new level of my sexuality emerged. I felt confident. I felt completely natural and open. I felt sensual, animal. I felt high on myself and my body. I felt moved to use this power.

A twinge of nervous excitement flashed in my belly imagining Benedict and I playing off of these feelings, and each other, later on.

I leaned into his ear, “I want to crawl all over you right now.” His eyes swept over my body. He reached for my hand and slowly twirled a finger around in my palm. I stroked his fingers. It was the most we could get away with.

In the painfully slow cab ride back to our hotel, we resorted to our old method of secretly flirting in public...only our knees touched. We didn’t even need to look at one another to express our heat. Certainly the taxi had seen unspeakable amounts of salacious activity over the years, but ours was just dirty enough to keep us satisfied on the journey.

While waiting at the bank of elevators, Benedict was spotted by three charming but drunk ladies in their 40’s who asked for his autograph. After he was done signing, an older gentleman stopped to get an autograph for his daughter. Benedict graciously but swiftly scribbled on cocktail napkins. In between the first wave and the second, he leaned in tightly to my ear and whispered.

“I need to be in bed naked with you immediately.”

I kept my hand on his back and ushered him into the first available car as the doors opened. We were blessedly alone for the first time in hours.

He took a step towards me. My body started to shake in anticipation.

“I know there are cameras but I cannot keep my hands off you a minute longer.” He nestled me in the corner, hands lightly resting on my lower back, mine around his waist. My mouth opened as soon as he tilted his head down. Our pliant lips touched, tongues not far behind. We traded wet kisses and soft moans. My body lengthened up to his. I saw us in the reflection of the elevator walls. I wrapped my leg around his calf to make the image sexier. I liked what I saw.

“Look,” I breathed, turning him against the wall, settling in against his body, spreading my legs so my skirt rode up a bit and he could see my butt against the strained material, my high heels making me arch.

“Look in the reflection while we kiss.” After a moment, I felt a wide hand trail down my body and land where he wanted to see it most. He squeezed. I thought about pressing the emergency button but was pretty sure that only worked in the movies.

The elevator bell dinged. Shit!

We quickly broke apart as the lift made a stop to pick up more passengers. A lovely middle-aged couple hopped on, empty ice buckets in hand.  The woman smiled wickedly at Benedict. They exited a floor above. When the doors closed, Benedict turned to me.

“Why did she look at me like that?”

“You have red lipstick smeared all over your mouth, dear.”

“Oh.  I should put it back where it came from then.” He leaned in again. Our lips painted broad soft strokes against the other. We thoroughly made out, uninterrupted, all the way to our floor. Walking to our room seemed impossible when all I wanted was to keep kissing him. I made it difficult for him to insert the room key into the lock as I was feeling him through his trousers from behind, my other hand caressing his stomach underneath his shirt. He finally opened the door and let me in.

Once in the dark room, all bets were off. He picked me up and dropped us both onto the bed sideways. We giggled and kissed. Our legs tangled together immediately, his hand ran the length of my thigh and calf, back up to my ass and then over a breast before moving up to my face and hair.

“I missed your taste.”

“I missed your smell.”

Our words came out like purrs.

“That show was hot.” He kissed my shoulder. I buried my nose in his hair, inhaling.

“Not as hot as me imagining us doing some of those things together.” I hummed in his ear.

“Oh, fuck. Your imagination...” His mouth opened wide on my throat,  tongue pointing and brushing my skin, lips sealing the deal into a pucker.

“Much better than reality.”

“Not in this case. I want to look at you.”

“I call a timeout. You get the lights, I need to use the restroom.”

“Deal.” We quickly broke apart taking care of our duties.

“Are you slipping into something more comfortable?” He teased with a sing-songy tone.

“Baby, I’m going to wow you with my granny panties and torn stained t-shirt,” I coo’ed from the bathroom.

“As long as I have something to unwrap.”

I returned, still clothed. He’d undone the sheets, taken off his shoes and socks and was sitting like a good boy on the edge of the plush bed. I handed him a couple of condoms. He pulled a couple out of his back pocket, smiled and tossed everything on the nightstand.

“I was lying about the underwear. _Somebody_ took my one really nice pair so I’ve had to go without.”

“Oh God, come over here and let me discover this for myself.”

I stepped closer, putting my hands on his shoulders.

“I don't know why you brought a fucking sweater to the desert.”

“I’m always cold.”

“Are you cold now?”

“No.”

“Then off with it.” I stood on either side of his legs, making him look up at me just a bit as I kissed him, sliding the woolen beast over his shoulders, down his arms. With my body at a slow crawl over his, I forced him to lean back on the bed, propping himself up first on extended then bent arms as we continued kissing. I straddled him, my hands gripping his hair, his fondling my ass. He raised my skirt over my hips, his fingers finding no barrier to where they wanted to go. I arched my back as he slid just inside. He played in me a while. I replied to his touch with my own, reaching down and rubbing against him through his jeans. I pushed him on his back and hovered over him. I rocked my wetness over his hardness. His hands snuck under my shirt to grasp my breasts, thumbing the stiff lace. I looked down at him, inhibitions disappearing. I wanted to do everything to him all at once. He sat up and peeled off my shirt, delighted at what he found underneath.

“You have the best taste in lingerie.” He explored the strapless bra with his eyes and fingers.

“Ah, but you cannot steal this for the personal collection you seem to have started.”

I lifted off his shirt and plastered our bodies together, finally skin to (lacy) skin. He sucked on my neck and unhooked my bra. It fell between our bodies and eventually got tossed to the floor. I lightly ran my hands over his bare pink shoulders while he kissed me. They were still warm and sensitive but he did not shy away from my skimming. I kissed them better.

“I want to be inside you like this. Just a taste.”

I reached to unbutton his jeans, but stopped, thinking of a better idea. I scooted behind him, kneeling and pressing my breasts against his back.

“Lean on me.” He let me have a little of his weight. I moved my hand under his arm, down his torso to his waistband.

“What are you doing?”

“Just something I dreamt about once.” He huffed a knowing smile and hooked an arm behind him, around my neck. I kissed his hot shoulder and unbuttoned his jeans. I ran my fingers along the inside of his pants.

“Can I?”

“Yes.” His eyes were closed. I pulled his zipper down, running my fingers over his cock straining to be released. I parted his fly, making a ceremony of it. I reached in and took him in my hand while moaning into his ear.

“Mmm, Benedict. Is that for me?”

“Yes.” He panted, mouth in an “O” shape.

“I like feeling you in my hand. Hard. Wet.” I enunciated the words in his ear, thumbing pre-come over his head. “Do you like me touching you there?”

“Yes.” His voice was deeper. More pre-come emerged.

“I want to make you come, Benedict. Do you want inside me?”

“Hhnnng yes.”

I moved around to face him, laying him down and pulling everything off him as he reached for a condom. The sight of his naked erect body aroused me physically and, strangely, emotionally. He made swift work of protecting himself and I slicked him up with my own wetness. He sat up, I faced him, lowered myself down and wrapped my legs around his waist. He fit perfectly.

I cannot properly give words to how beautiful it feels to be naked with someone you love. Yes, fuck it, I loved him in that moment, and the moment before that and the month before that. All the emotion I couldn’t put my finger on had been my love for him. I had never felt this way about anyone. I could see the feeling was mutual from the look in his eyes. We never spoke the words; we eventually would and would later admit that this was the very minute we knew. It was clear that every action we took that night in bed was fueled by this new unspoken insight. It was intense, I think we both may have secretly teared up at different points. I found it almost impossible to not shout it, but prudence won out. I opted for subtext.

“Ben. You feel so good inside me.”

We held each other, locked together, skin tight, not moving, just feeling a kind of electric mixture of love and arousal growing inside.

We kissed and began rocking gently. I arched my back and he took the opportunity to devour my breasts as if he was sucking the nipples of all the tantalizingly exposed women in the show that night. I couldn’t blame him.

"I could watch my tight wet nipples slip out of your mouth for days. That's hot." He sucked harder. I groaned louder.

His hands moved over my body, slow and deliberate. I could tell the difference between a touch that was meant for my pleasure and one that was meant for his. His movements were filled with such tenderness he was shaking. He held me at the back of my neck, fingers sliding in the sweat at my hairline. He licked up my jaw to my ear, blowing cool air over the moist trail before sending his tongue into my ear. Shivers awakened on my skin. I held onto his shoulders to steady myself as I leaned back and started to undulate quickly against him chasing the insistent rhythm of an incredible passion. He brought me close, sent his tongue into my mouth, grabbed my ass and thrusted as I unexpectedly came. I panted and bore down on him hard to keep the throbbing waves from subsiding. He kissed my mouth which was stuck open in ecstasy and surprise.

“Oh shit that was fast. I’m sorry. That’s never happened before.” I grabbed his face with both my hands and kissed all around his mouth in apology. He held me close.

“That was fucking hot.” He swirled his hips against me a little.

“Was it?” I wiped sweat off my temple.

“Yes.” He kissed my jaw.

“Let’s see if I can make it up to you while we wait for my second wind.” I sat up and pulled him out. I removed the condom. He was a dark shade of pink, still very hot and hard. I wanted my mouth on him, but held off. I laid his body down on the King-sized bed, kneeling by his side.

“Besides the obvious, where do you secretly like to be kissed?”

He didn’t even pause.

“Neck. My neck.” I leaned into him. My lips sauntered down his chin. I licked and caressed, kissed and nuzzled. I tickled his duck tail of hair at the base with my fingers. I wetted every mole. I inhaled his skin at the hollow of his throat.  His aftershave and sweat spread out and made a home on my tongue. Everything I did elicited a moan or murmur of gratitude. His neck and chest flushed. I was incredibly excited to find this unexpected erogenous zone on him.

I straddled his chest, gently forcing his arms above his head. He held onto his hands while mine wound down his forearms, biceps and over his collar bone. I dared to seek more of his alluring scent in the patch of his underarm hair. I buried my nose and absentmindedly kissed around in response to his musk. I sat up again, eyes closed, cleansing my palate and letting his scent register in my memory.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you in.”

“You do that a lot.”

“You have a lot to give.”

“I like the dreamy look on your face. It’s beautiful.” He caressed my breasts.

I smiled, eyes still closed. I wanted to be with him forever.

He rubbed my thighs.  I broke out of my trance.

I reached behind to touch him.

“Mouth or hand?”

“M-mouth.”

“Good.”

There was nothing hard about showing him how I felt with my lips and tongue and he repeatedly let me know it was all working for him. I was intoxicated by how he smelled, how he tasted. My senses took over as I loved, sucked and licked every hot, blushing, stiff, wet inch of him. A hand shot down on my head and I knew to stop. His impending orgasm turned me on and the itch to fuck him rose again. I started to reach for a condom when he stopped me.

“Wait. I want to try something. Lay back.” He swiftly moved from the bed to the dresser where he pulled something out of one of the many shopping bags haphazardly piled on one another. He returned and straddled my thighs, taking a large bite out of a soft peach. The room filled with its sweet scent.

“Where did you get tha-?!”

“-Nicked it from the Spa salad bar. Hold still.” He ran the exposed wet flesh over my breasts, down my stomach and into my pubic trail.  A dribble of juice slid down my side. The aroma was intoxicating. He tasted and licked every drop off, following the trail down, spreading my legs when he reached the end of the line.

“Oh my God you’re good.” I messed my hands around in his brown hair, his hoovering and lapping tickled.

“You’re delicious my dear.” He sucked the juice from my belly button with a rude slurp.

“Lower,” I groaned, speaking for the part of my body that called out for him the most.

He sucked the nectar from my pubis and moved down, tongue immediately circling and calling out my clitoris. I pressed my hips into the bed, arching my back and moaning.

“Mmm...I love it when you moan like that,” he mouthed into my wetness. He reached for the discarded peach and rubbed it on my inner thigh.

“Whoops! Cleanup on aisle You.” He used the occasion to put a love bite in the very spot he marked. He returned to my sex.

His dewy lips sucked and kissed with such attention and patience until I was thrusting against his face, pressing my feet into the duvet, crying out as his nose twirled around, his tongue snaking in and out ceaselessly.

“Do that-that thing you did last time. Always be doing that thing.” He vibrated his lips on my clitoris like a pro. I fully pushed my hips off the bed.

“Oh fuck yes. I want you inside me again.” I whimpered to the pillow beside my turned head.

He kneeled and started to rub himself ready.

“Let me.” I reached for him.

He sat over my hips while I stroked him. I loved touching him like that. He watched my hands moving on him, looking so masculine yet open and sensitive.  He stretched his body back, reaching for and caressing my legs propped up behind him. I ran my fingernails up his long torso. He tipped his head back, mouth agape, completely exposed and consumed with pleasure.

“Your hands feel so good on me like that.”

I lubed and rolled the condom on. He smiled briefly, ran his cock over my clitoris before welcoming himself inside me.

Our fingers entwined over my head as he held me down.

“Put your legs around me.” He whispered before even moving his hips. I did and he went in deeper, kissing me along on the way.

“You. are a. majestic woman, my love,” he sighed.

“Sexy.”

Kiss.

“Wet.”

Kiss.

Moan.

“Warm.”  He groaned.

His thoughts got the best of him and he started moving faster. My arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer as his thrusts and grunts became the only movement and sound. Currents of energy coursed through me feeling us both getting what we wanted. There is nothing better than a man giving you his love completely. At the height of his orgasm (and my second), he was a flurry of frantic, sloppy, sweet kisses, cries and groans, errant curls bobbing on his forehead and steaming hot breath huffing down on me.

He was a beautiful mess. I cradled him close.

OoOo

In the midst of our post coital, pre-slumber cuddling, and before we moved to the, ahem, drier bed, I looked him in the eyes.

“You were right. Better to be together like that in a nice bed in a private room with a view than a dirty light booth couch. Thank you for going to all this trouble to make it happen this way for me."

He kissed my cheek.

"No trouble at all. I knew you were worth it the second I met you."

OoOo

I woke up in the middle of the night as he was coming back into bed from using the restroom. We held each other, bodies close under the covers, sleepily kissing. Such a simple thing. I found his most innocent kiss thrilling. A look from him across the room strengthened me. I don’t know where I went when I got lost in his eyes, nor how long I was gone. My feelings for him were automatic, I didn’t have to manufacture a fantasy or imagine anything to feel what I was feeling. It was all there, this _thing_. It was him and me and... _us_. There was nothing to be done but welcome it, an easy enough task for something that felt incredible and new and right. For the first time in my life, my heart was completely in it as well as my body and mind. It felt like _magic_.

_Oh...!_

I smiled to myself and fell back asleep, finally understanding what all the planning, all the upset, was for. He was trying to tell me he thought we were magical together.

oOoOo

In the morning, the penultimate day of our trip, we discovered a long apologetic message on our room’s voicemail. It seemed the previous day’s concierge looked up Benedict on the internet and wanted to "make amends" for being unable to help us the day before. He gave us a vast array of comp tickets, activities and amusements all up and down the Strip. We took a shower, filled our bellies at the massive breakfast buffet and readied ourselves for a Full Day of Free Shit.

We traipsed like hyper kids all over town, riding the roller coaster at New York New York (twice), I braved the Wind Tunnel with a very bouncy Benedict (never again),  he snogged me in front of God and everyone while riding an indoor gondola at The Venetian. We dallied arm in arm through the indoor gardens at the Bellagio. After another amazing dinner where we stuffed our faces with pasta at Scarpetta,  we boogied in the balcony of The Joint during a Phoenix concert. To top it off we drank frozen cocktails and sang karaoke at the Ellis Island Casino. He made me sing Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together,” which I rocked until the high notes, so I made him sing Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream.” You really haven't lived until you’ve seen Benedict Cumberbatch shimmying his skinny tipsy white body around while badly crooning, “Let you put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans...” like a girl.

On our tired walk back to the Paris hotel, we caught a lonely street magician performing with no audience. We watched his entire act with utter amazement, applauded, cheered for far too long when it was over and then Benedict tipped him $100.

  
It was totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs that inspired this fic:  
> "Touch" and "Amsterdam" by Daughter  
> "Tessellate" by alt-J
> 
> Clothes that inspired this fic:  
> That lovely grey cardigan and *sigh* white t-shirt on that body of his. 
> 
> Seriously...go look at pictures of Encore Spa at the Wynn hotel in Vegas. To die for atmosphere.
> 
> Here are they Dirty Haikus they wrote: http://archiveofourown.org/works/854739


End file.
